


Grand pas d'action

by dalisay



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - High School, Ballet Dancer Almost Everyone Else, Ballet Dancer Katsuki Yuuri, Ballet Dancer Victor Nikiforov, Crossdressing, Except he kinda is, Lots of dancing, Pre-Relationship, Secret Identity, Self-Esteem Issues, Yuuri is not Cinderella
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-03-09 16:43:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13485609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalisay/pseuds/dalisay
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki is an ordinary high school student studying ballet at an elite arts school. He doesn't stand out much, and would rather stay in the wings than be on center stage. If there was one thing he enjoys, it is dancing en pointe. He loves performing females solos in secret, but that's just for girls, right?He's not all that interested that his school is putting up a production of 'Swan Lake' and that THE Viktor Nikiforov, mysterious ballet prodigy and legend-in-the-making,  will be in it. Yuuri would love to be the Swan, but it's not like he can audition for a female role.Viktor stumbles upon a 'girl' practicing on her own in the dimly-lit studio on the 3rd floor. He doesn't know who 'she' is, but he's determined to find out. It's not everyday you find a dancer as exquisite as that.





	1. Premier Acte: Esmeralda

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is not my first fic, but it's my first foray into the YOI fandom. Er..hi and please be gentle with me?
> 
> I've been a ballerina for 18 years (omg, has it been that long?), and a professional for like a quarter of that. I've always wanted to write a ballet fic, and this anime presented me with an opportunity to do just that.
> 
> Each chapter title is a name of a female character from different ballet performances.
> 
> This work is loosely based on the amazing manga 'Coda', by Ichimura Hitoshi.
> 
> EDIT: YAY, I finally figured out how to embed images properly! I feel so accomplished, lol. Have some pretty pics to go with the chapter :)

 

* * *

 

 

_Her large, mournful eyes slowly lifted to the heavens, entreating the gods who had forgotten her and condemned her to a restless fate. She knew that her plea would be unanswered, so she turned her gaze back to the hard and unforgiving ground where she belonged – would forever belong, from a choice not her own._

_She rose to the tips of her toes in a whisper, balancing herself effortlessly as she had not in life. Her pale arms were her flightless wings, gliding through the air languidly. Slowly. Ever so slowly. She had all the time now. Time had lost its hold upon her the moment she drew her last breath._

_She glowed softly in the darkness. White against black. Luminescent in the nothingness, her form a flicker in the abyss. She was once made of color – blue on the violets woven in the blonde of her hair, red on the apples of her cheeks, pink on the ribbons of her purple dress._

_Death had wrapped her up in white and silence._

_She bent her back against the embracing darkness, arms, hands and fingertips reaching behind her and following the graceful arch of her body. She had her eyes closed now._

_She knew he was watching. He was unmoving in the backdrop, grief etched in his form as he stood by her cold grave._

_Her very being called out for him in voiceless longing. He of the sweet words and the tender gazes. He had looked at her and her untried heart had answered at once. He whom she had loved in life._

He who had betrayed you. _The willis, violent spirits of restless women who had also suffered her fate, hissed._ Liar. Seducer. Betrayer.

 

_Did he even love you?_

 

Take your vengeance, _the wraiths whispered._

_But how could she ever hurt the one she loved?_

 

* * *

 

Out in the darkness, amid the spellbound audience, a little boy was perched on his theatre seat. Time had stopped for him too, if only for a while. His deep brown eyes, framed with glasses, were focused on the stage. His tiny hands gripped the arms of his chair, fingernails digging deeply into the foam. He was so small that his feet barely brushed the ground. Throughout the whole performance, his little legs never swung in the air like he tended to do when he was bored.

 

He was too young to understand the heartbreak in the dead girl’s eyes, the remorse and guilt in the Prince’s face, nor the unbearable pain of a love betrayed.

 

But dance, like love, had a way of speaking without words to souls old and young.

 

It had spoken directly to the little boy’s heart, and sparked his imagination with beautiful and wondrous things.

 

_Dance with me._

The little boy replied back.

               

_I will. I want to._

* * *

 

“Ugh! This variation is _killing_ me.”

 

The tambourine fell to the wooden floor and made a clattering sound in the empty room.

 

Yuuri smiled fondly at his disgruntled friend who then flopped to the ground with a huge gust of breath. He pressed ‘pause’ on the music player. The loud swell of music was cut abruptly, making the studio as silent as it was empty.

  

“I think you were doing pretty well, Yuuko-chan,” he said encouragingly. “Try to elongate your épaulements a bit more to show your body lines and slow down the descent of your leg after the battements. Aside from that, you make a cute Esmeralda.”

 

By now the aforementioned Yuuko was spread-eagled on the floor, as if making a snow angel. She raised her head to look at the boy sitting with his knees bent and the soles of his feet touching together in the butterfly position to keep his hips open and his legs warmed for practice.

 

“We both know that Esmeralda isn’t supposed to be cute,” she shot back gloomily. Her head made an audible thump as she resumed staring at the ceiling.

 

“She’s supposed to be womanly and seductive. She shakes her hips, bats her kohl-rimmed eyes, and beckons with her tambourine to bring all the boys to the yard. Then she gets sentenced to death for allegedly killing her lover because people in the 17th century were massively racist and had a thing against gypsies.”

 

“Well, if you want to be politically correct, Esmeralda is Romani. And there’s loads of things that happened before that,” Yuuri protested. “Maybe it would help if you tell the story to me again?”

 

“ _Fine,_ you lover of tragic endings. Esmeralda meets the dashing captain Phoebus, they fall in love while she was platonically married to someone else, she doesn’t know that Phoebus is engaged to someone else, she finds out because she danced at his engagement party, the engagement is called off, Phoebus gets stabbed then she dies too. They all did not live happily ever after just like most of the other ballets. The end.”

 

He was rather impressed at how Yuuko was able to say all of that in one breath. But then again, he was familiar with her hatred for unhappy endings. She tended to rant when upset, too.

 

“Phoebus couldn’t even be bothered to put an effort in his gift,” she complained huffily. “Instead he gives Esmeralda a shawl that his fiancée gave him.”

 

“That’s probably for plot development, Yuuko-chan. Fleur saw the scarf and realized that her fiancé was in love with someone else. Phoebus would never have called off the engagement because that would be pretty ungentlemanly.”

 

“Giving the scarf away was already ungentlemanly.” Yuuko shuffled closer to her duffel to grab a water bottle. “Why does Minako-sensei love the tragic versions so much? For that matter, why did she assign _Esmeralda_ this week?”

 

Minako Okukawa, the Director of the Ballet Division of the Dance Department, also handled classes in Yuuko’s year level. She was a classically beautiful woman of indeterminate age with such joie de vivre that suited her as a performer and now an instructor. Practically every student at the Artistic Intelligence School wanted to be in her classes.

 

“You’re not really complaining, are you?” Yuuri teased. “Since you’re paired up to dance Esmeralda’s and Phoebus’ _pas de deux_ with Nishigori-sempai in Partnering this week.”

 

 _Variations_ and _Partnering_ were two of the mandatory classes for the Advanced Level students in the Ballet Division. In Variations, males would study the male character solos and the females would study the female ones. In Partnering, they were grouped by two to learn the ‘duet’ parts.

 

“Shhh! Someone might hear! So what if I like dancing with Takeshi-kun? He’s a good partner.” Her face blushed as red as the leotard she was wearing. “You’re teasing me again, Yuuri-kun! I swear I’d tease you ten times more when you start crushing on someone.”

 

Yuuri shrugged. He couldn’t see that coming for a long time.

 

“But what would Takeshi-kun think if I don’t make a good Esmeralda? I’ve seen him doing Phoebus and he was amazing. _Kakkoii._ ”

 

Takeshi Nishigori was in the same year level and classes as Yuuko. Yuuri was in the year below them. He didn’t interact with Nishigori much, but had often listened to Yuuko practically rhapsodize about his ‘muscly arms’ and ‘strong jawline.’

 

“Don’t be silly, Yuuko-chan. I’m sure he’ll like it. You’re such a wonderful dancer,” he told her sincerely. He enjoyed watching her dance. She was light on her feet and had a clean technique. It was no wonder that she was one of the best in their year.

 

“I feel like something is missing.” She sat up and looked at him pensively. “Don’t you think so? I want to see _you_ dance it, Yuuri-kun.”

 

“…”

 

“Pretty please? In exchange of a steaming hot, delicious bowl of pork cutlets?”

 

“That’s a horrible bribe, you know I should cut down on calories.” His friend knew all too well his on-going love affair with pork cutlet bowls, and took shameless advantage of it when asking him for favors.

 

It was true that he needed to watch his weight. One of his instructors, Celestino Cialdini, had talked to him after _Techniques_ class the other day about it. It had been embarrassing and Yuuri obeyed as best as he can. It was partly because the Italian Ballet Master slightly terrified him.

 

One bowl couldn’t hurt, right? He would exercise a lot to compensate for it.

 

Yuuri had weight issues since he was a kid. It was easy for him to gain weight, and hard for him to lose it. Whenever he gained weight, it was quickly apparent on his face and belly. Building up muscle was difficult, too – at his peak form, his body would just look slender and lithe, unlike his male classmates who had well-defined arms and shoulders perfect for carrying and supporting ballerinas.

 

Battling weight problems had made him self-conscious and insecure about his body. The bullying didn’t help either. Neighborhood kids would often tease him about it and there were times when the teasing and name-calling would get too mean. He would bite his lip and try to hold back his tears – he knew that if he let them fall, the kids would just tease him more for being a crybaby.

 

Yuuko had seen one of these incidents and had promptly punched the bully in the face. The bully had gone home crying and parents were called, but Yuuko staunchly said she didn’t regret any of it.

 

They had quickly become friends after that.

 

His close friendship with Yuuko was the real reason why he would most often say yes when she requested for something. The pork cutlet bowls were just a bonus.

 

He got up on his feet and stretched his arms above him with a sigh. Yuuko sat up and gazed at him in anticipation.

 

“Fine. But I’m ordering the Special Katsudon bowl. Maybe dessert, too.”

 

* * *

     

Yuuri closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

 

When he opened them, Yuuri was gone and Esmeralda stood in his place. Beautiful, daring, brave Esmeralda – everything Yuuri Katsuki was not.

 

_Avaricious gazes follow the flirty curve of her lips and her delicate hands beating the tambourine in tune to the fortissimo of her music. Esmeralda doesn’t care about any of them._

_There is only one person in the crowd she cares about._

_Her Phoebus._

Yuuri kicked his right leg up, hitting the toe of his shoe on the tambourine held in his left hand and balancing all of his weight on the tips of the toes of his standing leg. Flexibility was not a problem for him – he had hypermobile hips and joints that female dancers would kill for. He didn’t have much use for them as a male dancer and it oftentimes made jumps difficult to land well. It made him more vulnerable to injuries, too.

 

But now, as Esmeralda, he reveled in his strengths.

 

 _Échappé. Passé. Grand battement. Relevé._ Chin up, shoulders relaxed.

Yuuko whopped when he effortlessly quadrupled his pirouette. Right on the beat of the music, Yuuri landed on a lunge with his hands offered palms up to the audience.

 

_Esmeralda smiles. She knows that the crowd is in the palm of her hand._

Yuuri started his favorite part of the dance – the choreographic sequence of seductive steps interspersed with a series of coupé turns on flat. Never forgetting to hit the tambourine on the note. Elongating his arms to show off his body lines.

 

Yuuko started clapping when he began the climax of the variation – a series of one-foot relevés in which he went up and down on his left foot while hitting the tambourine with his right. His right leg rose and rose as he brought the tambourine higher in the air.

 

_Esmeralda felt powerful. Beautiful. Confident._

He ended his dance with a grand jeté and a smile.

 

* * *

 

 Yuuko was still clapping loudly when he stood up from his ending pose.

 

“Sugoi, Yuuri-kun! That was incredible!”

 

Yuuri blushed.

 

“Th-thank you, Yuuko-chan,” he stammered, heart still pounding with adrenaline and Esmeralda’s euphoria. He wasn’t tired. He felt as if he could dance forever. “I think your version was still better.”

 

He knew that his technique had a lot of room for improvement. Ballet Master Cialdini spent a lot of time correcting him during class hours. He appreciated the corrections, but it always made him feel bad to take up a lot of class time.

 

_I’ll never be good enough._

“Are you kidding me? If this was about technique again, I will _strangle_ you. No one practices as much as you do.”

 

Yuuri shrugged, absently taping the toe of his shoe on the wooden floor. He looked down at his feet, mentally noting the scuffed satin of his pointe shoes. The arch felt a little too soft. It would probably last him a month before he should get new ones.

 

He didn’t mind practicing. He had too much time on his hands anyway. Aside from Yuuko and Phitchit, his roommate and another upperclassman, nobody wanted to hang out with him.

 

He didn’t blame them. It was hard to deal with him. His crippling shyness made it hard for him to reach out to his peers. He turned down invitations from classmates because he was afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing.

 

Eventually, they got tired of asking.

 

“I like practicing. Plus, it was you who taught me to dance prettily, Yuuko-‘sensei.’”

               

Yuuri’s love for female variations was no secret to Yuuko. She enjoyed teaching him the steps also as a way to study for herself.

 

 _I know I’ll never be prima, or even a soloist, Yuuri-kun._ She had said to him once. She had shaken her head when he opened his mouth to protest. _I’ve long since accepted that, and I realized that that’s not my dream. I wanna be like Minako-sensei. A teacher. I’ll put up my own studio back home someday._

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. When you dance, it felt like…it felt like _you_ were Esmeralda. I’ve never seen anyone do it quite like that before.”

 

Yuuko beamed at him, sincerity coloring her every word. She was such a good friend. She always knew what to say to encourage him.

 

”If you were a girl, you’d probably be prima someday, Yuuri-kun.” Yuuko pushed in a stray hairpin in her hair and looked at the mirror to check her bun. “No that you’re not awesome as a boy! But yeah, you get my point. If guys were allowed to dance the girl parts, you’ll be dancing all the lead roles. People will love you.”

 

“M-me?” The thought was absurd to Yuuri.

 

Ever since he started performing, he was always part of the backdrop. A mouse in _The Nutcracker._ Villager #3 in _Don Quixote._ An unnamed pirate in _Le Corsaire._ Forgettable. Part of the crowd and made to blend in to make the main characters stand out.

               

“Yes! You weren’t made to be in the corps. You are a prima. _Étoile.”_

“There’s nothing wrong with being in the corps, Yuuko-chan. We can’t all be soloists.” Yuuri sat beside her.

 

“I wish you’d show people how good you are _en pointe._ Better than some girls in my class, even.”

"People think that using pointe shoes are just for girls, Yuuko-chan.”

 

“Well, people used to think that ballet is just for girls, but we have a lot of boys in the Ballet Division now.”

 

Yuuri refrained from telling his eternally optimistic friend that some people _still_ think that ballet is just for girls, and those ones would definitely ridicule him if they found out that he connected with _Esmeralda_ more than Phoebus. Would dance her better, too.

 

“Someday, the world will see what you’ve got,” Yuuko announced, and started undoing the ribbons of her shoe. “I’ve had enough of practicing for today. Let’s go eat.”

 

* * *

 

 Yuuri went back to his dorm room, pleasantly full and feeling too guilty about his 900kcal meal.

 

 _Someday, I’ll learn to say no to bribes involving katsudon._ He promised himself. _Someday, but not today._

He dropped his duffel at the foot of his bed and sat with a sigh on the soft mattress. His idle hands absentmindedly smoothed out the blue sheets.

               

( _You have boring bed sheets, Yuuri-kun. Look at mine._ Phitchit had said and gestured towards his _Hamtaro-_ themed blanket. _Aren’t they cute?_ )

             

The door burst open and a boy of about seventeen with tan skin and soft gray eyes bounded in excitedly.

 

“Yuuri-kun!” He sing-songed, plopping down next to his roommate and handing him his phone. “Take a look at _this,_ my cute little kouhai _!"_

 

Though on different year levels, Phitchit Chulanont and Yuuri had been assigned as roommates because all the other rooms were full during Yuuri’s first year at the school. Thanks to the Thai’s cheerful and friendly nature, he easily drew out Yuuri from his shell and they had been friends ever since.

 

Yuuri took the phone reluctantly. He smiled at the hamsters on the screensaver before swiping it. The older boy probably wanted to show him yet another social media post from one of his many, many accounts.

 

His eyes widened and he almost dropped the expensive phone.

 

“Phitchit-sempai! You posted that?”

 

“Hey, how many times have I told you to call me Phitchit- _kun?”_ Phitchit grumbled good-naturedly. “And isn’t it great? It already has thousands of likes!”

 

It was a picture of Yuuri from their practice a few days ago. The lighting in the image was dark, so his figure was a silhouette against the stark backdrop.

               

His right leg was raised behind him in an arabesque, his arms were aloft in a ‘V,’ and he was balancing lightly on the tips of his toes. The transluscent skirt (Yuuko lent it to him for ‘authenticity’ because Phitchit and Yuuri were practicing the Act II pas de deux of _Giselle_ ) formed a beautiful fan of light and shadow.

 

The caption on the picture read: **phi-nhong430** Mystère about to take flight #lines #suay

 

Phitchit knew of his ‘secret little hobby’ because he was a nosy upperclassman and roommate, and because the word ‘secret’ was not in his vocabulary. It had taken one carelessly placed pair of pointe shoes in their shared room and the cat was out of the bag.  

 

The Thai boy had hounded Yuuri for pas de deux practices after that.

 

 _Don’t worry, Yuuri._ Phitchit had said. _I’m not gonna tell anyone. You’ll get partner practice, I’ll get partner practice, so it’s win-win, right? And it’s gonna be fun practicing partnering with your awesome senpai! Please?_

Yuuri had said yes, if only to silence him and make him stop pouting. Phitchit was quite good at the puppy dog pout. Yuuri was always helpless against it.

 

“Phitchit-kun! You said you wouldn’t post these silly Misty photos again!”

 

“ _Mystère_ is not silly, Yuuri! These pics are beautiful, and people think so, too! Read the comments.”

 

Yuuri scrolled down, fully expecting insults. People on the Internet were sometimes unkind. It was one of the reasons why he didn’t have a social media account.

                             

 **sk8terboi** Shes beautiful who is she

 **balletgirl22** I wish my lines wer as gud as that! take a look @ **mysterefan**

 **pirouette_master** Love u mystere

 **mysterefan** <3 <3 <3 face reveal @ 20k pls

 

The comments went on – praises of his form, speculations about Mystère’s identity and requests for more posts.

 

Yuuri was baffled.

 

“B-b-but-“

 

“Who am I to deny Mystère’s followers of the latest updates?” Phitchit bulldozed over his protests cheerfully, bouncing up and down on the bed like the excitable child he was. “They asked, and they shall receive.”

 

“They wouldn’t be this enthusiastic if they knew that Mystère was an average guy, not this ‘dance goddess’ you’re making her to be.”

 

“Yuuri, no one would know it was you! I always post these Mystère photos on an anonymous account. I promised you that I would keep your secret, remember?”

 

Yuuri opened his mouth to protest. Phitchit so did _not_ know what a secret was.

 

“I’ve keep that promise for a long time now, haven’t I? Like a good senpai?”      

 

Yuuri glanced down at the phone, its screen still lit up with the black and white image.

 

It was a beautiful picture, admittedly. The ballerina really seemed as if she was about to take flight, and gravity couldn’t keep ‘her’ down from taking to the skies.

 

He couldn’t believe that it was _him_ posing for the camera.

 

If Phitchit didn’t dream of being the first Thai male principal dancer of the Royal Ballet, he would have made a pretty awesome photographer, too.

 

Phitchit had started taking pictures of him during their practice sessions about a year ago. His father had sent him a camera as a birthday gift and it had quickly hooked him on photography.

 

Yuuri was reluctant to pose for him at first, but had acquiesced when the older boy promised that he would take mostly silhouettes, and that he wouldn’t tell anyone that who it was in the picture.

 

The younger boy should’ve extracted a more specific promise from his cunning friend. He couldn’t even get mad at Phitchit because technically, he didn’t tell anyone when he uploaded the photos.

 

The posts quickly became viral and sparked a lot of speculation about the identity of the person in the images. Some of the guesses were flattering, and even compared him with some well-known prima ballerinas. An online user had eventually named the anonymous dancer ‘Mystère’ because the identity was just that – a mystery.

 

“I hope someday you’ll see yourself the way I see you, Yuuri,” his friend said wistfully. “The way these people see _Mystère.”_

 

Yuuri was lucky to have such supportive friends who believed in him more than he believed in himself.

 

He was nothing like the beautiful, resplendent, bold Esmeralda who revelled in every eye on her when she danced. Her tambourine rang the loudest and her dance shone the brightest. She basked in the limelight, her spirit burning unafraid. Fear was a strange concept to her, alien and unwelcome. She didn’t have to worry if she was good enough.

 

_I’m not Esmeralda. I’ll never be good enough._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The ballet piece at the beginning is from [Giselle](https://youtu.be/f6--QRj8fUA?t=54) Basically, it's the story of a girl who died of heartbreak because her lover lied to her about being a prince and having a fiancee. She comes back as a spirit to save him from other spirits who want to take revenge. A sad, beautiful tragedy.
> 
> 2\. Yes, Esmeralda is the same character in the Disney film 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame.' She has her own ballet. Yuuri and Yuuko were performing this [variation.](https://youtu.be/50lAMbJUXfc?t=18) And yes, males do dance en pointe, too and are awesome at it. Watch the same variation performed by a male [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7GpAdbkvKI)
> 
> 3\. More amazing boys performing female variations: [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5nzpgzjOonQ)
> 
> Next chapter: Viktor is introduced. Yuuko tries to help with Yuuri's essay. Yuuri binge-watches Viktor's vids and forgets his homework.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


	2. Deuxième Acte: Raymonda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the warm welcome! Each kudos, kind comment and bookmark fill me with joy. Here's the second chapter uploaded early as my thanks.
> 
> Like before, words in underline in the story and in the End Notes are links if you're curious to see what the dance looks like.
> 
> Please enjoy!

 

* * *

 

_“Kaa-chan, thank you for bringing me to the ballet today. It was the most beautiful-est thing ever!”_

_Hiroko Katsuki smiled down at her little boy, wrapping an arm around his sweater-clad shoulders. It was a chilly November night, and she had reminded her son that it would also be cold inside the theater._

_They made their way through the aisle slowly, maneuvering around the other sharply-dressed people talking in hushed tones._

_“Really? You didn’t get bored at all, Yuu-chan?”_

_Her son looked at her incredulously._

_“No! That was – that was really, really p-pretty!” Little Yuuri struggled to find the right words to describe it, biting his lip in consternation because he knew that pretty was not enough. Pretty was the azaleas and maple trees in Kunenan where his mother took him last autumn. This was…Yuuri didn’t know the words to describe it yet, but he was sure that there were no words for it._

_“I wanna learn how to dance like that! Do you think I can, Kaa-chan?”_

_“Of course! My little Yuu can do anything! Don’t papa and I always tell you that you can go with your onee-chan to ballet class if you want?”_

_It was wonderful to see the bright spark of excitement in her little boy’s eyes. Yuu-chan rarely asked for anything, always afraid of being a bother._

_“And maybe if you practice hard, you can be Giselle’s Prince someday!”_

_Yuuri frowned at the idea._

_He didn’t want to be Albrecht! He was a big meanie who made Giselle sad. Did he even say sorry? Kaa-chan said that you should say sorry if you hurt somebody._

_Giselle was so pretty in her sparkly dresses! Even when she became a ghost, he wasn’t afraid of her at all. She was so nice to the Prince even though he was a big meanie. She even saved him from the other scary lady spirits!_

_She was a hero._

_Yuuri wanted to be brave like a hero. Because he was always a scaredy cat._

_Yuuri wanted to be Giselle._

* * *

 

**_With three acts, four scenes and an apotheosis, all of which would require the titular character’s near-constant presence on stage, Raymonda is a ballet that will certainly challenge a ballerina’s artistic sensitivity and technical excellence. Raymonda will need to perform different variations, and each is a test of her versatility and stamina._ **

****

**_In the beginning, Raymonda is portrayed as a maiden in the blossom of her youth, eagerly awaiting for the return of her literal knight-in-shining-armor who had been away due to war._ **

****

**_Her[pizzicato variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KWrJrU6tyqg) in Act I, seemingly easy, is anything but not. She would need strong ankles and toes to execute the hops en pointe – plus an unruffled, cheerful demeanor throughout. On the other hand, the [dream variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zfKQgiLrG2k) in the same act, is a slow adagio that artfully demonstrates her absolute control and the long lines of her limbs through the développés and arabesques. Raymonda must maintain a calm mien here, almost expressionless, since she is “experiencing a vision.” The phrasing of each step must be clear and at the same time give the impression of being dream-like._ **

****

**_The[grand pas variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s6Ano2auiJk) in Act II challenges her with the incredible difficulty of the dreaded entrechat quatres en pointe and tricky pirouette stylizations. _ **

****

**_Perhaps the trickiest is the Act III variation, famously known as the “[clap variation](https://youtu.be/99b2SvdhSQQ?t=13).” Here, we fully realize that Raymonda is more than a maiden in love, she is also royalty. Countess Raymonda is presented before the Hungarian King. With coyly folded arms, straight posture, and a haughty countenance, she must be regal and refined, as befitting her station. Technique-wise, it is the simplest of her variations. The first two minutes of her solo is comprised of bourrées, pauses and claps. She commands the attention of the audience and hold them in suspense. She – _ **

A loud squeal of excitement made Yuuri look up from the essay he was typing for _Ballet Literature_ class.

 

“Yuuri-kun! Yuuri-kun! Have you heard the news? The whole school’s been talking about it!”

 

Yuuko was red-faced and panting, slouching a bit to catch her breath. She dumped her hot pink duffel bag next to Yuuri’s spot on the ground.

 

“Where’s Phitchit-kun?” she demanded, cutting off his reply to her question. “I’m sure he’ll be excited about this, too! Heck, he probably knows already, the huge social media-obsessed geek that he is. I’ll shoot him a text.”

 

“Muramoto-sensei was talking to him about his hall monitor duties, so I think he can’t make it today.” Aside from being the top male student of his year, Phitchit was also very active in student affairs. One of Phitchit’s responsibilities was to monitor the halls (“ _I’m the Keeper of the Keys and Sentinel of the Corridors, Yuuri!_ The Thai would always insist), and it was the reason why the trio has unlimited access to unused studio classrooms for their private practice.

The three of them often had lunch together under one of the many trees in the school yard. Yuuri was unfamiliar with tree names, but he liked the one he was under now in particular - it was a grand old tree with great, sturdy branches and deep green leaves in summer. It had been ‘Yuuri’s spot’ before Yuuko and Phitchit had cheerfully barged in his solitary lunch breaks and made it ‘Their Spot.’

 

“What is Phitchit-kun supposed to be excited about, anyway?”

 

“You’re probably the last to know. As usual,” Yuuko teased gently.  She pulled her phone out of her pocket and sat on the grass beside Yuuri. “It’s on the main page of AIS Breaker. Have you checked it?”

 

AIS Breaker was the internet blog run by students in the Literary Division. The site kept the student body updated with the latest campus news, events and items of interest. It even had a section dedicated to discussions of Mystère’s identity. Phtchit, the giant troll that he is, loved to participate in interviews to discuss who Mystère could be. His guesses became crazier and crazier with each discussion. Basically, the blog was the authorized ‘gossip mill’ of the school.

 

“Can’t you just tell me what it is? I still have an essay to finish. It’s due tomorrow.”

 

“It won’t take more than a few minutes. Pretty please?”

 

Yuuri minimized his document window and toggled his browser, knowing that Yuuko would not stop bugging him about it. Stubbornness was a trait that both of his friends shared.

 

A photo of a handsome young man with ash gray hair and glacial blue eyes greeted him on the home page of AIS Breaker. It was accompanied by a news article and a headline that read: ‘ _Ballet Star Nikiforov Confirms Upcoming Visit to AIS.’_

Yuuri looked up from his laptop screen to stare at his friend blankly.

 

“Er…I should care about this...why?”

 

“THE Viktor Nikiforov is coming to visit here! Why are you not freaking out? Even the normies are talking about him. Even if their interest is mostly because he’s cute.” ‘Normies’ were the regular students at AIS without an Art Focus and thus had a normal high school curriculum. On the other hand, the regulars called students with an Art Focus ‘Artsies.’

 

“I don’t really know him, so I don’t see what the big deal is.”

 

Objectively, Yuuri found the Russian dancer ‘handsome.’ But he wouldn’t tell Yuuko _that._

 

Yuuko turned to him with a horrified expression, as if he had just announced that the world was ending tomorrow and giant pink ostriches would be taking over.

 

“You’re a male AIS student with a Ballet Focus. How could you not know who he is? Our techniques master always gushes about him.” Her phone pinged. “Huh. Looks like Phitchit’s been tweeting about it all morning. He sent me a text with just ‘!!!’.” She drew the exclamation points in the air.

 

“Cialdini-sensei never mentioned him.” The Ballet Master only ‘gushed’ about successful dancers who had been his students before.

 

“That’s too bad. Cialdini’s probably still salty about how Viktor won gold at Varna instead of Phitchit many seasons ago.” Yuuko commented. Every AIS dancer who qualified for a competition was personally trained by a ballet master. Whenever Phitchit competed, it was Cialdini who handled his training.

 

“You must be living under a rock, Yuuri-kun. Viktor Nikiforov’s a Russian dance genius. He has the technique _and_ the artistry. He’s won gold at least once in everything since he started competing – YAGP, IBC, WBC, Prix de Lausanne, and so on. He’s left his rivals in the dust in practically every existing dance competition. This guy is just my age, but he’s already being compared to Baryshnikov and Nureyev.”

 

Yuuri, whenever he binge-watched ballet videos, mostly watched female variations. It was completely possible he might not have seen the Russian dancer before.

 

He scrolled down, absentmindedly scanning the article which mentioned the prodigy’s various credentials and achievements. Rumors about his future plans.

 

There were more pictures – one was of Viktor Nikiforov performing as ‘Basil’ from Don Quixote. He was captured in the middle of a grand jeté, so high up from the ground that he looked like he was flying. Another was of him during an awarding ceremony. A gold medal was hung around his neck and he was receiving a handshake from one of the officials. The shiny medal paled in comparison to the large, infectious grin that lit up his whole face.

 

Every academic year, AIS would invite students from affiliate schools in Japan and abroad as part of its exchange student program. The invited guests would study for at least three months and most would even participate in AIS’ year-end ballet recital.

 

“So this year, one of our ‘internationals’ is going to be Nikiforov?” That was the term they used for students in the exchange student program.

 

“Yup! I heard they’ve been inviting him since forever, but he had to turn them down because of all the scholarships he’s finishing.” Scholarships in prestigious schools were part of the prizes for winning ballet competitions. And according to Yuuko, Nikiforov had been largely successful in comps, so he must have been offered a lot of scholarships, too.               

 

“You’re pretty excited for him, Yuuko-chan. Won’t Nishigori-sempai be jealous?” he said playfully. Yuuri closed his browser window and brought up his essay document again. Homework was homework, after all.

 

“This is just a ballet crush, Yuuri-kun. Like how you fangirl over Zakharova.”

 

“You fangirl over Zakharova, too.”

 

She shrugged. “Svetlana Zakharova is a ballet goddess. Of course I’ll fangirl over her.” Yuuri wholeheartedly agreed. His friend started fiddling with her phone, as she was wont to do when thinking hard about something. “I wonder if Viktor is gonna be in our _Swan Lake_ production this school year. He’s gotta be, right? AIS wouldn’t pass up this opportunity to show off a star.”

 

“If he’s as great as you said, they probably cast him as Sigfried already.”

 

“But the thing is, he _hasn’t_ participated in anything this year. No competitions, no guest performances, nada. It’s the reason why he was able to accept AIS’ offer. It’s also a huge thing because people haven’t heard about him for months.”

 

Yuuri glanced at his friend, who was picking at the tutu sticker on the back of her phone.

 

“People are starting to wonder why. Some say he’s injured. Some say he went back to ‘normal’ high school. Some are even saying stupid things, like he got married or he injured another dancer. Ha! Can you believe it?”

 

“Maybe he just wanted a break? Why don’t they just leave him alone instead of making stupid rumors?”

 

“Geniuses like him don’t just take breaks because of nothing, Yuuri-kun. Of course people will talk. Something must’ve happened.” Yuuko scooted closer and leaned against him. “Hmph. It’s no fun talking about this with _you_. You’re barely even listening. Watcha writin’ ‘bout for your essay, anyway?”

 

* * *

 

Yuuri slumped down at the desk in his room, rubbing his eyes tiredly under his glasses. He squinted blearily at his laptop monitor.

 

The essay wasn’t completed yet – he was finding it hard to put down his thoughts into words. Yuuko had regaled him with a long and detailed rant on the historical inaccuracies of _Raymonda_ (“ _Jean de Brienne was a real person and he had three wives, but none was named Raymonda”_ and “ _the story doesn’t make sense at face value, Yuuri-kun. Like, why would a Hungarian countess and a Saracen warrior be in France anyway? The audience would need an explanation)._

Yuuko even had real life comparisons ( _Jean de Brienne’s impending arrival is kinda like Viktor Nikiforov coming to AIS, isn’t it? Same excitement and hullabaloo. This must be how Raymonda felt waiting for him) –_ some of which were rational, some funny and some outrageously crazy _._

She had ended her monologue with a critique on the ballet’s lack of strong female characters ( _“It’s yet another damsel-in-distress story, Yuuri-kun. The only good thing about the story is that it ended happily, thank goodness. Or else this rant would be much, much longer.”)._

 

 _It would be much easier to dance Raymonda than to explain her,_ Yuuri thought.

 

His desk was facing the window, so he could see that the sun was beginning to set. The rays of dusky sunshine painted the room in soft hues of orange and red, and casted shadows in the dim corners. A stuffed hamster toy grinned dopily at him from where it was sitting on Phitchit’s bed.

 

Yuuri wondered if his roommate was finished with his various student activities. The Thai boy always seemed to be busy doing this or that, but he would usually be back around this time now.

_Better go back to my essay._

He noticed that he hadn’t closed his browser window from earlier. The essay was being stubborn, so he figured that it was time to take a break by watching cute dog videos online.

 

The bright, smiling face of Viktor Nikiforov greeted him again on the home page of AIS Breaker.

 

 _Geniuses like him don’t just take breaks because of nothing, Yuuri-kun. Something must’ve happened_.

 

On a whim, Yuuri opened a new tab and typed the Russian dancer’s name on the search bar.

 

Thousands of results popped up from his query. The prodigy was the subject of numerous news articles, blog sites and fan forums.

 

_Wow, Yuuko-chan wasn’t kidding about this guy being popular._

There were also dance videos of him from competitions and guest performances. Yuuri clicked on the first one, which was entitled ‘Viktor Nikiforov – Fallen Angel.’ Plugging in his headphones while it was loading, he settled back and watched.

 

* * *

              

A soft, melancholy tune started playing as a dim light faded in to reveal what was hidden from sight.

 

A boy, a chair, and darkness.

 

There was a boy standing on top of a chair. His beautiful face was upturned, with an expression that belied his years. He was robed in white – from the opened shirt that showed the planes of his young body, to the loose slacks clinging lowly to the sharp jut of his hips. A man’s black coat was slung over one shoulder, held there securely in the grip of his hand.

He dropped the coat to hang on the chair as he descended to the ground.

 

The boy walked forward slowly, every step silent and somber. He went down on one knee and shifted to face behind, revealing the two bloody gashes running vertically on his back.

 

Where his wings had been.

 

_He had been one of his Father’s angels, until he had made the wrong choice._

The boy missed his wings like phantom limbs. They had been his limbs – an extension of him, something that he could never get back.

 

_Without them, who was he?_

Walking was an unfamiliar sensation. How he hated the ground! He hated how it felt on the soles of his feet. Why was his body so heavy?

 

He jumped up on the chair again. Maybe from this height, he could feel as if he had his wings back. He looked up.

 

_Would his Father listen if he asked for forgiveness?_

 

The melody picked up, transitioning into sultry shades of tones as the strains of flute and violin began to replace the quiet piano keys.

 

The boy exploded in movement. Running, jumping, turning, twisting – anything to get away from this detestable ground. No matter where he went, no matter how fast he moved, the ground was there to meet him.

 

He closed his eyes, yet the ground was still there. Invisible.

 

Opened his eyes. Closed them again, yet his wings still weren’t there. Gone.

 

Why? _Why?_

 

His breathing grew heavy. He had not needed to breathe before.

 

Something was thudding loudly in the vicinity of his chest. What was it?

 

The boy rested his tired, now-human body on the ground. His back leaned against the legs of the chair, light-shaded curls brushing on the seat.

 

He was still for a few moments. Then his eye caught sight of the black coat.

 

He stood up with it in his hand.

 

The boy put it on. Acceptance.

 

_He had been one of his Father’s angels, but not anymore._

 

* * *

Yuuri released the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

 

His throat was choking with a torrent of emotions trying to froth out of his heart. His eyes were stinging. The laptop screen was blurry even though he had his glasses on.

 

_How could anything be so beautiful?_

 

The seductive tango melody was still tantalizing his senses even after the video had stopped playing. He wanted to get up, grab his pointe shoes, hurry to the nearest empty dance studio and just _dance._ Dance until the soles of his shoes fell off, until every muscle screamed in protest and every drop of sweat was wrung out of his body.  Dance to answer the fallen angel’s quiet anguish. Dance until the azure of Viktor’s compelling eyes stopped haunting him.

 

 _I know you,_ his very soul breathed out, his conscious mind unaware. _I know you, even if I haven’t met you yet._

 

The video was a few years old, which surprised Yuuri. Viktor danced with an emotional maturity that far surpassed his years. He understood the role and embodied it. He was technically perfect, but he was not merely dancing the steps. Each movement was nuanced with meaning. If every performance of his was as good as this one, then no wonder that everyone was hailing him a prodigy.

 

 _Yuuko-chan would be so smug if she finds out that she converted another ‘stan,’_ Yuuri thought as he hunted down images of the Russian dancer to save in his Pictures folder. Viktor was quite active at the social media scene as well. His accounts were filled with pictures of dancing, selfies, sceneries from places he competed in, and his pet.

_Cute dog,_ Yuuri smiled at the picture of Viktor and an adorable brown poodle curled up together as they slept.

 

There was a video of Viktor fooling around with some of his most difficult tricks during a casual practice at a studio. Yuuri’s jaw dropped as he watched him performing _double cabrioles derriere, 540’s, revoltades, jetés_ and triple _tours en l’air_ as if they were nothing. He had such a joyous laugh after each perfect move. The elevation in his jumps was out of this world. Yuuri could practice forever and still not be able to do some of those tricks. He could admit that with no small amount of jealousy and awe.

It was also true that Viktor had mysteriously stopped dancing for quite some time now. There were some really wild rumors going through the Internet, and absolutely no comment from the subject of said rumors.

 

Yuuri idly wondered about the sudden hiatus. The Russian seemed to love dancing and was on top of the world. He was in love with life and life was very much in love with him, too. But of course, Yuuri only has videos and pictures on the Internet to judge. Like everyone, he could only see what Viktor wanted the world to see.

 

It would be so sad if Viktor stopped dancing altogether. He still had so much to show the world. Talented as he was, he still had room to grow. Improvement was a never-ending process, and perfection was a goal that would take several lifetimes to accomplish.

 

It was curious that Viktor Nikiforov suddenly accepted AIS’ offer after months of silence and apparent inactivity. AIS was indeed a prestigious school, but was that enough to entice him to come back if his reasons ran deep?

  

Or was Yuuri reading too much into this when it was frankly not his business? It was because of this stupid infatuation with Viktor’s dancing. Yuuri had never felt this connected with a performance and a dancer before.

 

Essay completely forgotten, he scrolled through Viktor’s other videos. He was eager to see how Viktor’s dance style has evolved throughout the years. What other roles did he play, which variations were his favorite?

 

His heart pounded, thinking of the possibility of being able to watch Viktor dance in person, without a screen and thousands of miles between them.

                               

_Will you know me, too?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Raymonda is a monstrous beast of a ballet. If ballet performances were sharks, it would be a Great White (lol i just watched a marine docu). While female leads in other ballets has 2-3 variations in all, Raymonda has freakin' 7 if the ballet is performed in full. Yuuri totally forgot to write about the [pas de châle (shawl)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oAhOiAinGes) variation, haha.  
> 2\. Svetlana Zakharova is a ballet goddess. I'm still hoping to grow up to be her someday. Here she is in the [clap variation.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1AEzOUsLB60)  
> 3\. Here is a male ballet dancer performing the [clap variation.](https://youtu.be/juSmBvrqeAg?t=906), tutu and all. This is performed by the Trockaderos, a very talented all-male dance company specializing in comedy, parody and female variations. They put my pointework to shame, lol.  
> 4\. Viktor's dance is inspired by Daniil Simkin's hauntingly beautiful ['Fallen Angel.'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7smuUQLXTwk)  
> 5\. To visualize the stunts Viktor was doing, watch this [amazing video.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h_VE64GXjQQ%20) HOW could a human jump that high without special effects? O.O 
> 
> Next chapter: Yuuri calls home, Phitchit almost succeeds in keeping a secret, and Viktor enters from stage left (literally).


	3. Troisième: Aurora

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you always for your support. It warms my heart <3 
> 
> Sorry for the slight delay in the chapter. My wrist is still a bit sore from gymnastics because I did something I probably shouldn't have (I take gymnastics to add flashy stunts in my contemporary ballet performances lol). I'm typing very slowly. The stunt went fine, though. #noregrets
> 
> So, the very important lesson I can take away from this is: warm up before showing off, kiddies.
> 
> Please enjoy!

 

_The little boy stared in open-mouthed wonder as his big sister twirled on her tippy toes, arms gently rounded above her head. She turned and turned and turned, making her pretty chiffon skirt flare around her like a soft, pink cloud.  She didn’t seem to get dizzy._

_“That’s the princess turn, otouto,” Mari informed him with the lofty wisdom of a nine-year old who had experienced it all. “And this is a curtsy. Girls do it before and after class to make sensei happy.”_

_His sister then held her skirt and did a graceful move that Yuuri has seen ladies do in front of queens and kings in movies._

_“I don’t have boy classmates, but I think they bow. Like this.” She bent from the waist with arms crossed._

_“Wow,” he whispered. His big sister knew everything! How could he ever catch up? He was afraid that everyone would know lots and lots of things already. And they would laugh at him because he knew nothing._

_“You’ll be in the baby class at first. Don’t worry, Saya-sensei is very nice. She’ll teach you how to do the choo choo train and the fairy run.”_

 

_That sounded like a lot of fun. He felt dread drain out of him a little, and now he was filled with excitement._

_“Can I also wear a skirt, onee-chan?” Yuuri asked softly. It was so pretty! He wanted to see if he could also make it float like butterfly’s wings if he did the princess turn._

_Mari frowned in thought. She’s never seen a boy in a skirt before._

_“I don’t think you can, otouto. Skirts are just for girls.”_

 

* * *

 

Yuuri climbed on his bed, took his laptop gingerly and made himself comfortable before clicking on his sister’s Skype icon.

 

Mari answered after a few rings.

 

“Lil bro!”

 

He blinked. “You changed your hair again, Mari-nee?”

 

His older sister was now sporting short, brown hair that was partially bleached at the tips. He remembered it being a lot longer. And greener.

 

She grinned. “Yep. Got bored of the green. I think I’ll keep it like this.” She pushed back her customary purple headband and pointed at her ear. “I got a new piercing, too.”

 

Mari was quite different from her pink-loving, tutu-wearing, excitable nine-year old self. She had mellowed out, and was probably the calmest member of their family. She loved experimenting with bold colors and unusual styles. Unlike her little brother, she was not afraid of what other people would think. Yuuri admired her for that.

 

“It looks great on you,” he told her sincerely. “The color brings out your eyes.”

 

“Aww. Baby bro is always so sweet. You’d still say that even if I shave it all off, dye my eyebrows neon orange and get those dreadful nostril hair extensions.”

 

“I’d still love you,” Yuuri replied loyally, like the kind and caring younger brother he was. She raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “But, Mari-nee? I would disown you as my big sister if that happens.”

 

“Good to know. I would disown _myself_ if I was crazy enough to contemplate it.” She peered closely at him through the monitor, likely seeing the heavy bags under his eyes and his bleary expression. “How’s school? You look tired, otouto. Have you been getting enough rest?”

 

Yuuri yawned, leaning back against the headboard. He wanted to curl under his covers and sleep for a hundred years. “Just some homework. Math is killing me.” Plus, he had been staying up too late at night for the past few days just rewatching Viktor Nikiforov’s videos. He had probably seen everything already, including the fanvids. “Where’s _kaa-san_ and _tou-san_?”

 

Mari rolled her eyes. “Out for their usual weekly ‘dinner dates.’ It’s been a slow day, so they decided to go tonight instead of tomorrow. You just missed them.”

 

He smiled at the thought of his mother and father having fun together. Their parents have been married for many years, but they still acted as if each passing day was their first honeymoon. “I think it’s sweet.”

 

 “Well, you don’t have to see them everyday making googly eyes at each other.” There were only a few things in the world that ruffled his usually laid back sister, so he had to hold back his laughter at her disgruntled expression. “They spent too much time cleaning one of the guest rooms today. Too. Much. Time.”

 

She shuddered.

 

“Maybe they wanted to air out the futons?”

 

His sister shot him her trademark ‘don’t-be-stupid’ look. “Please let’s stop talking about our parents likely very active love life. For both of our sanity’s sakes. Hold on a sec.” She got up and out of frame. Yuuri could hear her conversing with someone. Likely with a guest, because she was using her ‘polite’-speak which she hardy used with anyone else.

 

She returned, the saccharine ‘friendly host’ smile visibly slipping off her face to give way to her customary deadpan look. “Sorry. A guest just checked out. So! I heard AIS is inviting some pretty popular Russian dancers this year.”

 

“Viktor Nikiforov?” Mari was always up-to-date with school events, much to Yuuri's eternal bafflement. He didn't even have to tell her anything, and she already knew about it.

 

“Yeah, yeah. I know about him. He's pretty good” She waved a hand as if to brush a fly aside. “Best dancer ever, yadda yadda yadda. BUT. Any chance Yuri Plisetsky is coming, too?”

 

“Er…who?”

 

“Little blond kid with a scowly face.” She gestured vaguely. “Super talented. Around a year younger than you. You don’t know him at all?”

 

Mari might not be dancing ballet anymore, but she was surprisingly still updated about the dance world. She especially loved watching competitions. However, she had never asked him directly about a dancer until now.

 

“Sorry,” he shrugged.

 

“You haven’t competed against him before?”

 

“Mari-nee, you know I don’t participate in the competitions.” Which strictly wasn’t true. He did compete, once. There might have been ‘The Unmitigated Disaster’ in YA Grand Prix a season or two ago, but he was never, _ever_ going to talk about it again.

 

“I watched him in Prix de Lausanne this year. Superb. He easily won gold. He looks so much like Takao, remember him?”

 

“Who doesn’t remember him? You wouldn’t shut up about him, Nee-san,” he teased. “You dragged me to watch one of their concerts before.” It had been so embarrassing being the only guy in the sea of excitable fangirls. He even heard them cooing about him to each other. Maybe it was because of the pink bomber jacket and eyeliner that she made him wear.

 

“Oh yeah. That was fun. We should do that again.” She idly twirled a stray lock of hair, a gesture which usually meant that she was thinking about something. “Anyway, if he ever comes, make sure to take a selfie with him. Better yet, invite him to Yu-topia, okay?”

 

Yuuri wanted to protest. There was no way that he could ever muster up the courage to ask a complete stranger for a photo, much more to extend him an invitation to his home. If Mari was in his place, she could do that without a problem. She would just walk right up to him and ask after boldly introducing herself.  _If she hadn’t given it up…_

 

“Do you ever regret it?” He blurted out in lieu of a promise.

 

“Regret what?”

 

“You should have been here, not me,” he whispered, looking down at his clenched fists resting against the keyboard. Once upon a time, Mari had been accepted into the Ballet Program at the prestigious AIS, too. She had turned it down because her little brother wished to go to the same school, and their parents could only afford one enrollment. Thinking about her sacrifice left him wracked in guilt. “You would have been so much better than me.”

 

Mari still moved with the absentminded grace of a dancer, no matter what she was doing. He would hear her humming Tchaikovsky or Mozart under her breath whenever she dusted the furniture. He knew that she kept all her tutus well-preserved in the locked chest in her room. (He might have seen her take them out lovingly one time, late at night when she thought everyone was sleeping.)

 

“Hey, look at me, lil bro,” she murmured soothingly. He gently touched his fingertips against her image on the monitor, wishing that he could have hugged her at that moment. “Don’t your fancy school ever teach you about counterfactual fallacies?”

 

His laughter at that was dampened with unshed tears. “No one here is as smart as you, Mari-nee.”

 

“Well, that’s true.” Mari was smarter than she would let anyone in on. Yuuri firmly believed that she was a secret evil genius who could take over the world if she wanted to. “Listen. I will tell you this even a million times until it sticks in your stubborn head. I don’t regret my decision. I like helping our parents run Yu-topia,” she smoothed out her red jinbei with pride, her nametag knocked askew with the movement. “I like knowing that someday my baby brother is going to be the best, most popular ballet dancer in the world.”

 

“Even if it means setting his illogical arguments straight. Because he can be such an idiot some times. Or forcing him to watch concerts with me so that he’ll learn not to stress about unimportant stuff too much.”

 

“You enjoy forcing me to go to concerts with you.”

 

She didn’t even deny it. “So don’t ever feel sorry for me, okay? After all, I’m not the one giving up pork cutlet bowls for dinner every day. Between you and me, you got the short end of the stick, Yuu-kun.”

 

Yuuri smiled, heart filled with love for his big sister who would always have his back. Of course the monolith of guilt proverbially barricading him wouldn’t crumble that quickly, but his sister was not a quitter – she would never give up chipping it away until it was rubble and dust under his feet.

 

And maybe one day, when his grief over her sacrifice was not that fresh anymore, he would tear down the guilt himself and build something new and wonderful in its place.

 

Mari might have changed over the years, but some things, like her quiet kindness and unquestionable love for him, would remain the same.

 

* * *

 

 _Bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked Aurora enters the ballroom in a flurry of_ pas de chats _and_ pas de bourrées, _smiling radiantly at the finely-dressed courtiers who have gathered for her sixteenth birthday. She blushes as she is approached by four dashing princes and returns their gallant bows with a curtsy. The princess pauses, and hurries to her mother, unsure of what to do next._

Dance with them _, the queen encourages with an indulgent smile._ They are here for you.

 

_Princess Aurora lights up and nods._

 

“Have I told you that I really, really love the Rose Adagio in Sleeping Beauty, Yuuri-kun?” Yuuko sighed, watching the dancers on stage with a rapt gaze. “Imagine having handsome, lovestruck princes fighting over for a dance with you and offering you beautiful roses. Tchaikovsky and Petipa were the original inventors of Reverse Harems.”

 

Yuuri chuckled. His friend might sometimes criticize shoujo mangas as having weak, insipid female lead characters, but it was also true that she enjoyed reading them a lot.

 

“Let me revise that. I really, really love the Sleeping Beauty ballet, period,” she continued. “It already had crossovers before they were cool. Inviting Puss in Boots, Cinderella, Little Riding Hood and other Perrault characters to Aurora’s wedding in Act III was genius.”

 

Yuuri and Yuuko were watching some Level 1 students (the year level below Yuuri’s) practice for a performance exam. It was also a collaborative test, so students from the same level but different disciplines – Music, Fashion and Arts – were participating as well. The teachers usually gave the students the freedom to select the ballet, and this particular group had chosen to bring the Rose Adagio of Sleeping Beauty Act I to life.

 

The final practices were open and took place in the auditorium.  Yuuri, Yuuko and Phitchit often came to watch if they had free time. They would also watch each other’s performances when they were able to.

 

“Really, Yuuko-chan?” They watched as Aurora brought her leg high up in _a la seconde_ , forming an almost straight line with her standing leg. One by one, the princes held her hand in fifth position to help her balance on tiptoe. “You’re not going to complain about the blatant somnophilia or dubious consent? No traumatizing me with the original version of Sleeping Beauty?”

 

“I can like the dancing without liking the story. And you already know the original version anyway.” It was her fault. She had traumatized him with a retelling of it years ago.

 

The real reason why Yuuko loved this ballet was the Wedding Pas de deux in Act III. It had been the first time she had partnered with Nishigori.

 

_Prince Fortuné and Prince Fleur lifted Aurora right on the loudest swell of music, surrounded by adoring lords and ladies who had their arms raised in celebration. She smiled down at them in innocent happiness._

_The four suitors each presented her with a rose. She took them shyly, admiring the soft colors of the petals as she pirouetted with the princes one by one._

Aurora bourréed in place – quick, tiny steps _en pointe_ as she went around and around in what Mari used to call as the ‘princess turns.’ Yuuri smiled, remembering the times he and his sister wore out the _tatami_ mats in their shared childhood bedroom when they practiced there. 

 

“Hmm. That one needs improvement in supporting,” she gestured to the guy playing Prince Charmant. Aurora’s pirouette got slightly off-center while he was holding her hips. “His grip is too weak. Aurora has to support herself most of the time when dancing with him.”

 

“Maybe he’s having an off day? Or he’s nervous because there are more people in the auditorium than usual today.” The dancer they were talking about had a shaky smile and slightly trembling fingers as he looked out to the audience.

 

The school website had encouraged the students to watch Level I’s practice that afternoon because Ballet Master Leroy, the Artistic Director of the Ballet Division, had an announcement to make afterwards. The entire hall was abuzz with excited chatter about what could it be, though they tried to keep it down in respect to the dancers.

 

“What did I miss?”

 

“Phitchit-kun! We saved you a seat.” The boy mumbled in thanks as he shuffled to the vacant chair in between them, phone attached to his hand as usual. “Where have you been?”

 

He grinned. “Gave another ‘Demystifying Mystère’ interview with the Literary Department. I had some really good ideas who it was this time.” The mischievous boy laughed at Yuuri’s affronted cry of ‘Phitchit-kun!’

 

Yuuko was also giggling. “The previous article was fun! I like how you suggested that she was an alien princess who came to Earth from her home planet to fulfil her dream of becoming a dancer.”

 

“ _Et tu_ , Yuuko-chan?” The younger boy lamented. Quietly, so as not to disrupt the ongoing practice. “Do people actually read those articles?”

 

“Phitchit-kun’s interviews are quite popular. Readers praise his creativity and inventiveness,” Yuuko said. “I for one am looking forward to the next release.”

 

There was no way that people read the literary pieces to figure out who the girl in silhouette was. It was simply impossible for Mystère to be an alien princess/spy/nymph or whatever Phitchit came up with lately.

 

“You’re gonna enjoy the next one, Yuuko-chan,” The Thai told her. “Ji-kun was super impressed with it.”

 

“I am surrounded by crazy people,” Yuuri muttered to himself, shaking his head at his friends’ antics. On the stage, the princes kneeled down on one leg in a diagonal line. The Princess went up on an arabesque, bringing her leg higher behind her as she laid a hand and leaned on the first suitor’s shoulder. She _chasséed_ to the next one, repeating the arabesque-to- _penché_ motion.

 

“Did Leroy-sensei bring out Viktor Nikiforov yet?” Phitchit asked.

 

The group of girls in front of them gasped as they swiveled to face him. They blushed as they saw Phitchit returning their gazes evenly, and turned back to face the stage. They were still obviously eavesdropping.

 

Yuuri’s heart thudded. Viktor Nikiforov was already here? “That’s the big announcement?” And wow, Viktor Nikiforov must really be special to merit a personal introduction by the Artistic Director. AIS had never done that to previous ‘international’ students.

 

“It must be,” The older boy shrugged, but it was a studied movement. As if he knew something. “The teachers didn’t want to overcrowd the auditorium, so they didn’t make it mandatory to watch Level I’s practice. We have to make a good impression to Viktor, right?”

 

Yuuko was staring at Phitchit with a calculating expression. “You’ve totally met him already, haven’t you.” She said it as a statement, not a question.

 

“…No?” His butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth face wasn’t fooling anyone. He looked at the stage to avoid Yuuko’s accusing glare. “Oh, look at that! I don’t really get why Aurora throws the roses to the ground after the princes give them to her. Couldn’t they have choreographed one of the ladies to come out with a vase? Aurora might have started a _war._ Although that would make a cool ballet _._   _Sleeping Beauty but there's a war going on because of angry suitors._ ”

 

“Phitchit-kun, you’re such a bad liar. Quit changing the subject. What’s he like? Will you introduce us to him?”

 

He was saved from answering her questions when the audience started applauding as Aurora made her last pirouette and assumed her final pose, beautiful and youthful in the midst of the people who adored and celebrated her.

 

* * *

 

 Alain Leroy was a heavy-set man with gruff features perennially set in an intense expression. As one of the Artistic Directors of the Ballet Division (with Minako Okukawa also handling the same responsibilities), he was in charge of the selection of ballet works to be performed and how to interpret them. He was a world-renowned choreographer before taking on the position. His eldest son, whom he and his wife had trained, was currently a soloist with the National Ballet of Canada.

 

“By now you all know,” he started, piercing eyes watching the audience as closely as they watched him. He was wearing his customary baseball cap with a maple leaf on it, which he tugged down decisively. “We have a special guest coming to stay with us for this academic year.” The Ballet Master beckoned someone out of sight from stage left.

 

The din in the large room crescendoed and fell into a hush as someone joined the stage.

 

“Oh my gosh, he’s _gorgeous.”_

 

“His eyes are so blue.”

 

“He’s so dreamy…”

 

“So tall…”

 

Pictures and videos of Viktor Nikiforov online obviously didn’t do him justice. Dressed in all black, he certainly cut a dashing figure. He was tall – he would probably tower over Yuuri if they stood near each other. His hair was not just gray – it was the color of an overcast sky during the calm before a storm. Even from Yuuri’s location all the way to the back of the auditorium, the effect of those deep blue eyes was devastating.

 

The Russian prodigy looked out to the crowd and smiled. Yuuri could hear sighs of adoration ripple through the audience.

 

“Hello everyone, my name is Viktor Nikiforov,” he said in polite tones, as if everyone didn’t already know who he was. “Starting from today, I’ll be a student at this school. _Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.”_ Viktor bowed.

 

His respectful gesture and perfect Japanese made the crowd fall in love with him even more, if that was possible.

 

“I wish we can see him dance,” Yuuko whispered beside him as the Artistic Director further introduced their guest and gave announcements that the people was only half-heartedly listening to, so intent on watching Viktor. He didn’t appear to notice the scrutiny.

 

The crowd echoed Yuuko’s wish and started chanting. “Dance! Dance!”

 

Viktor laughed good-naturedly, unzipping his jacket in one smooth move. He had his practice clothes on underneath. The audience roared in appreciation.

 

“I would be happy to dance for you,” he said, after Ballet Master Leroy nodded in encouragement. “To follow up the Rose Adagio that the students have wonderfully performed earlier, I will dance Prince Desire’s variation in Act III.”

 

* * *

 

_He is Prince Desire, and he has come to claim his Princess._

_She has waited a hundred years for him. Silent and unmoving. Eyes closed in magical slumber. She is beauty frozen in time. A prisoner of an endless sequence of dreams and nightmares, she has been unable to escape into reality._

Viktor leaped, triumphant and exuberant. Step, chasse, pas de bourrée, glissade, cabriole. Arabesque.

_He is here now, and he is sorry to have kept her waiting._

Viktor jumped into air with effortless grace, landing the double _tours_ to _soutenu_ turn with no step out of place. It was followed by an incredibly fast and centered quintuple pirouette. He smiled broadly at his spellbound audience, every inch the Prince he was portraying to be.

 

_The lonely prince had been born without a heart, and now he knows why._

_His heart had started existing long before his birth._

 

_It had already been with her, she who came into being a century ago._

Yuuri gasped as Viktor – no, Prince Desire – launched into a series of _tour de reins_ around the stage. His leading leg flew into a graceful, looping arc in the air, while the other leg followed in a bent position as he ended the jump and started another one.  Without stopping for a breath, he changed into coupé jetés. The turning split jumps were so light that he landed them without a sound.

 

_She had been trapped in dreams, longing to wake. He had been trapped in reality, longing to dream._

_He came to free her. But she has freed him too._

* * *

 

 “My eyes have been blessed,” Yuuko sighed happily. “No offense to both of you, but that was the best male variation I’ve ever seen.”

 

“No offense taken,” Phitchit replied cheerily. “Hey, do you think Viktor would teach me how he makes his barrel turns so high if I asked him? They were super, super _high_ even though he didn’t get a lot of momentum for them!”

 

The three of them were enjoying the late afternoon under ‘Their Spot’ in the yard. Classes were over for the day, and the foreign student was given a chance to get settled in after his outstanding performance in the auditorium.

 

“Will Viktor Nikiforov join your classes, Phitchit-kun?” Yuuri asked, lost in thought. His eyes were fixed on the orange sun making its bed upon the mountains in the horizon.

 

“Yep. That’s also why I’m his designated tour guide!” The Thai winked and made a ‘peace sign,’ grinning from ear to ear.

 

“Oh my. He’ll get lost, then.”

 

“Hey, I’m an awesome tour guide! Yuuri, tell her how your awesome senpai toured you around on your first day here.”

 

They did in fact get lost back then.

 

“Okay, you’re the awesomest as long as you introduce Yuuri and I to him.” Yuuko turned to her younger friend. “What did you think of his performance, Yuuri-kun?”

 

Yuuri met two expectant gazes, brow wrinkled in contemplation.

 

“Do you think something’s different?” He muttered, uncomfortable to bring it up and dampen his friends’ enthusiasm. He had watched Viktor in countless replays of his dance videos online. _But…_ “About his dance?”

 

_Something’s missing._

 

“What do you mean? With his technique?”

 

“He hasn’t changed coaches, as far as I know,” Phitchit added. “And he doesn’t seem to be recovering from injuries, like those other nasty rumors said before.”

 

“He’s practically better than ever,” Yuuko gushed. “Those rumors were obviously wrong. I’m so glad that he’s joining AIS this year! Oh, I hope I can do a _pas de deux_ with him in partnering.”

 

“You’ll get your chance,” Phitchit reassured her. He brought out his phone. “And look! I was able to capture Viktor’s dance in video!”

 

"I was so absorbed with Viktor's performance that I didn't realize you were taking a video of him! Play it, Phitchit-kun!"Yuuko sat nearer, so that Phitchit was in the middle of the trio.

 

The older students started a discussion about Viktor’s technique, completely forgetting Yuuri’s question in their excitement. They paused the video now and then to analyse every step and expression that the Russian dancer used.

 

Yuuri was mostly silent, nodding at certain points in the conversation to show that he was listening. He even asked Phitchit to replay the video again, and watched it more intently. It was as perfect as he had seen it the first time. But.

 

 _There_ was _something different._

_Something missing._

_But why couldn’t they see it?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The [Rose Adagio](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JTkIyYMP27c) from Act II. The 'Alice in Wonderland' ballet did a funny parody of it called the [Tart Adagio,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y5ZuM82ukQE) in which the Queen of Heart threatens the cards to dance with her and give her tarts instead of roses. Off with their heads!  
> 2\. In the ballet, Sleeping Beauty really does invite [Red Riding Hood,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2mkE_QcvHgk) [Cinderella,](https://youtu.be/ynIBHBagJsI?t=277) and [Puss in Boots](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=omIZgkAPsPU) to her Wedding. The jumping step that Puss and the White Cat repeatedly does is called 'pas de chat,' or literally, 'cat's step.' I also want to gush about the choreography of Red Riding Hood of the Australian Ballet version. The Wolf was doing something called a 'sheep jump' in gymnastics. Isn't that genius? (lol am I a total nerd for noticing that)  
> 3\. Aurora variation as performed by a [female](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1b1jRHFGIno) and a [male.](https://youtu.be/rKnEybpQ-UI?t=300) Both are amazing.  
> 4\. Yes, in the ballet, Aurora's prince was really named Desire. In [Act II](https://youtu.be/RkAHSXki4eI?t=4647), he is shown to be a dreamer, unhappy even in the company of his friends until the Lilac Fairy tells him about the Sleeping Princess. This is his [Act III variation.](https://youtu.be/RkAHSXki4eI?t=8133)
> 
> Next chapter goes something like:  
> *knock knock*  
> "Phitchit-kun, did you forget your keys again? I told you-"  
> "Hello. Yuuri, isn't it? Is Phitchit around? My door's a bit - stuck."  
> "V-vi-Viktor?!"


	4. Quatrième Acte: Ondine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I'm back! First of all, thank you so much for the well wishes - I attribute my wrist's speedy recovery to them. I gave it some rest and took it easy (I once tore my hamstring years ago and didn't 'take it easy,' and my left leg was never the same ever since T.T) Never, ever skip warming up and cooling down when exercising.
> 
> I uploaded this chapter sooner because I'll be taking part in a show this weekend, yay! (I haven't memorized the choreo yet *le gasp*. I kinda need to do it asap, haha)
> 
> Please enjoy!

 

 

_The soft, jaunty notes of a gavotte were coaxed out of a piano in the corner as the little boy patiently waited for his turn, back straight and arms gently rounded in brava position._

_His brow was scrunched in thought; eyes fixed at his feet clad in his new ballet slippers. His black tights and white shirt were new, too. They felt a little bit odd the first time he wore them – top too loose, bottom too tight._

_He wasn’t thinking about that at the moment._

1…2…3…run, run, jump. 1…2…3…jump, jump. 1…2…jump? Run? Run?

 

_The girl before him was almost finished with the combination, so Yuuri stood straighter and got ready._

1…2…3…run, run. Wait-

 

_Yuuri ran, tried to jump and fell._

_His classmates burst into laughter._

_The little boy’s heart sank, his cheeks burned as he scrambled to his feet and told his teacher he was okay. The impact was more jarring than painful, like falling on his bed and waking up from a dream where he was flying._

_The shrieks of laughter died down to snickers that were a tad too mean. His eyes stayed glued to his feet during the rest of the class. He was unable to concentrate when all he wanted to do was grab his bag, go home and hide in his closet._ Maybe, maybe ballet wasn’t –

 

_“Are you really okay, Yuuri-kun?” Saya-sensei asked after class._

_He shrugged. Kaa-chan always told him that it was not polite not to answer a question, but if he opened his mouth now, tears would come out of his eyes. He wasn’t a crybaby, he wasn’t –_

_“It’s okay if you can’t do it on your first try. I had to do it lots and lots of times before I could. I fell many times, too.”_

_“It’s not that, sensei. I can do it,” he said softly, peering up at her kind, brown eyes. “I- I think I can, b-but-”_

_He had seen Mari do the ‘big jump’ before, and had tried it in the garden at home many times. Mari would nod approvingly, the way Saya-sensei did when the students got the step right._

_“What’s wrong, Yuuri-kun?”_

_“I-I was trying to chase the music.”_

_“Chase the music?” She echoed._

_He noticed her confused expression, and nodded hesitatingly._

_“Hai, sensei,” Yuuri held out his arms towards the direction of the piano. “Isn’t that the story? The music is running. I am running to catch it at the big jump. I was counting and counting real hard, I lost the music. I’m sorry, sensei. Was...was the story wrong?”_

Please don’t be angry at me.

_Saya-sensei ruffled his hair affectionately._

_“Don’t be sorry, Yuuri-kun. I think it’s wonderful that you have a story to tell. There is always a story in dance, whether it’s happy or sad, funny or serious, normal or weird. Sometimes, it looks like there is no story, but that means you have to look deeper. Do you understand?”_

_Yuuri nodded, visions of Giselle flitting through his mind. He didn’t understand what Giselle was saying at first when he first saw the ballet, but he knew that she was trying to tell him something._

_“Dance is more than math and counting. I told the class to count, but that’s because your classmates haven’t found a story to tell yet. They can focus on that. That’s okay, too. Before you tell a story, you need to find your voice first. Like Little Mermaid, ne?”_

Voice? But dancers don’t speak when they dance. Why do they need their voices when they don’t use words?

 

_The teacher smiled as if she heard his thoughts._

_“Want to do the combination again? This time, focus on the story. Don’t count. Find your voice.”_

* * *

 

“Are you going to audition for Swan Lake?”

 

“I don’t know yet. Are you?”

 

“ _Duh._ If a chance to dance with Viktor Nikiforov isn’t enough incentive, what is?”

 

“We don’t even know if he’ll be participating in it.”

 

“He’ll be present in all the auditions. That’s already a big clue, isn’t it?”

 

One of the girls mumbled something indistinct.

 

Yuuri idly flipped through the book he was reading, unable to block the girls’ chatter from the nearest table.

 

He was sitting alone in the Student’s Lounge. Lunch had just ended, and it was a free period for him. Yuuko and Phitchit had _Partnering_ class together.

 

“I haven’t seen him around on campus. Where do you think he hangs out?” The girl in pigtails asked.

 

“Who knows? Nobody’s seen him outside of class.” Her friend shrugged in response. “Except from the time he ended up in the girls’ dorm ‘cause of Phitchit-senpai.”

 

The girls giggled.

 

Yuuri winced in sympathy. Phitchit the Awesome Tour Guide had brought him there, too. And to the kitchens…Teachers’ Lounge…rooftops…Headmistress’s Office…

 

Basically, to all the places that were off-limits to students.

 

Phitchit might have caused a bit of chaos along the way and Yuuri was the helpless witness/bystander. The teachers had none of it and deemed them both guilty.

 

That was Yuuri’s first detention. Phitchit always called it ‘Banzai Bonding Between Best Buddies.’ He was probably studying alliteration in English class at that time.

 

The Thai boy would, of course, cheerfully tell the story differently to anyone who would ask.

 

“Karen-chan almost screamed my ear off when they appeared. Phitchit-sempai and Viktor are so cool!”

 

“You were screaming just as loud.”

 

“So were you!”

 

“I think we all were. Some were even sobbing hysterically. Didn’t a firstie faint?”

 

“ _Great._ Now Viktor Nikiforov will think that we’re nothing but crazy fangirls.”

 

“He was so nice about it, though. He took selfies with all of us. He even signed my old pointe shoes.”

 

“Darn it, I should have done that, too.  If Viktor really is going to be Prince Siegfried, whoever will play Odette/Odile is so lucky.”

 

They sighed dreamily. Yuuri coughed, and flipped another page without reading it.

 

“Frankly, I’d be happy to be one of the swans or court ladies just so I can see him dance up close. You’d be crazy not to audition! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

 

Yuuri subconsciously nodded in agreement. Anyone would be lucky to dance with Viktor. Phitchit and Yuuko were surely going to audition as well.

 

What would it be like to stand on the same stage as Viktor Nikiforov? To meet him step for step, measure for measure? To syncopate his heartbeat to his, each thud pulsating in glorious harmony? What would it be like to be the sole focus of that intense blue gaze?

 

Yuuri was a child looking up at the heavens and wishing to be one of the stars.

 

_Impossible._

He forcefully pushed the idle daydream away, stomping on the longing that had started taking root in his heart. Some dreams could come true, but others were meant to stay as dreams.

 

There was no question what _this_ was.

 

* * *

 

_98…99…100!_

Yuuri heaved a huge sigh of relief, the sound partially muffled by the facemask he had put on for stamina training.

 

He picked up the towel slung over his chair and blotted the droplets of sweat on his forehead. He shook his legs to get rid of the numbness from the jumps while trying to catch his breath.

 

Stamina was one thing he was really proud of, so he made a conscious effort to train it everyday. Thank goodness that dorm rooms were soundproofed, or else the dormers on the floor below would have complained about the loud thuds by now.

 

 _Practice as much as you can._ Mari-nee had advised him when he had asked her as a little boy how she had gotten to be so good at dancing.

 

Yuuri took her advice literally and practiced every chance he got. He did _relevés_ to strengthen his ankles while brushing his teeth. He did his plié exercises to keep his knees primed while waiting for the laundry to finish. He sat on the floor in the split position while studying. His shared dorm room was big enough to practice turns and some stationary jumps.

 

Sometimes, it felt as if he lived and breathed dance. The emotion was amplified by being surrounded by amazing people as passionate about it as he. Taking out dance from his life would probably be like cutting out his heart.

 

He had allowed dance to take over his life without any regret.

 

There was no room for regret when love was there to fill up all the empty spaces.

 

He was distracted from nostalgic thoughts when his phone lit up and beeped.

 

**4got 2 giv key 2 viki D:**

**Giv 2 him wen he asks plz XD Ci**

Yuuri peered at his phone, taking a second to decipher the message. There were time when Phitchit texted as if he was upside down, blindfolded, and using his non-dominant foot (he could probably text with his dominant one). English was the Thai’s favorite academic subject, but he also delighted in cheerfully butchering it.

 

What key?

 

His phone beeped again.

 

**Ur welcome :P**

 

Welcome for _what?_

As if on cue, someone knocked on the door.

 

Yuuri rolled his eyes. His roommate most likely forgot or lost his keys again. It was a regrettably common occurrence. (He slightly suspected the reason why he was allowed to continue rooming with Phitchit was the teachers felt that the older boy needed a babysitter.)

 

“Phitchit-kun, I _swear._  You should just attach your keys to your phone, that way it won’t get lost-“

 

He flung the door open.

 

It wasn’t Phitchit on the other side.

 

“Hello. Yuuri, isn’t it?” Viktor Nikiforov smiled sheepishly, running a hand through his damp hair. “Sorry to bother you like this. Phitchit mentioned you have my room keys? I really need them now.”

 

Viktor Nikiforov was right in front of him.

 

THE Viktor Nikiforov, teen dance prodigy and darling of the ballet world, was standing right in front of him wearing nothing but a dance belt and a smile.

 

“Vi-vi-Viktor?!”

 

Yuuri’s brain short-circuited. He couldn’t be blamed for that, right? He wasn’t embarrassed about nudity, having practically grown up in an onsen. But-

 

A drop of water fell from Viktor’s wet bangs. It tenderly grazed his cheek, pooled a bit in the hollow of his beautifully curved collarbones, before making its way down to a well-defined chest and chiselled abdomen.

 

Was this how it felt like to stand before a pure work of art? Would Michelangelo’s _David_ be as impressive?

 

Viktor was more than a hunk of marble lovingly etched by the hands of a dedicated sculptor. He was alive, warm, breathing…

 

…And staring at him confusedly, smile still in place.

 

Yuuri was grateful that he still had his mask on. It helped hide red face while he was standing there, gaping (ogling) unabashedly.

 

“Yes?” Viktor replied.

 

Oh, right. Yuuri had just blurted out the name rather loudly right in its owner’s face.

 

“W-w- _what-“_

_KatsukiYuuri.exe has stopped working._

“I was taking a shower in the communal bathroom when my fresh clothes fell to the floor and now all of them are wet. I’m afraid my towel met the same fate.” Yuuri has never seen anyone shrug so gracefully. “I went back to my room but I locked myself out.”

 

Oh no. Another senpai in need of a babysitter.

.

Okay. Katsuki Yuuri can handle this. One crisis at a time.

 

“I’m sorry. I don’t actually know where your key is,” Yuuri apologized, eyes trying to find a safe place to look at. “I could call Phitchit-kun to ask?”

 

 _Phew._ That came out normal-sounding, right?

 

“That would be great, thank you.”

 

“Would you like to come in while I call? I have some towels you can cover yourself in.” Viktor was most likely freezing out in the corridor, wasn’t he? Plus the dorm head might come around any second and berate the exchange student for public indecency or something. “N-new ones, I mean! They’re fresh, I haven’t ever used them. At all. Ever. Obviously I won’t ever think of offering you used ones. That would be icky. And-“

 

Yuuri was hardly paying attention to the words spewing out of his mouth, mortified beyond belief.

 

Viktor was still laughing as he stepped inside. The sound was so bright and full of joy, it made Yuuri warm just listening to it. Even if it was in his expense.

 

“I should’ve just shut up, shouldn’t I?” Yuuri mumbled dejectedly to himself. Why did he have to make himself such an absolute fool in front of his idol?

 

“Phitchit mentioned that he had a cute roommate. Would that be you?” the prodigy asked, looking around the room politely. Yuuri thanked his lucky stars that his laptop screen was off. He might or might not have Viktor Nikiforov dressed as the Slave in _Excelsior_ as his wallpaper. “You’re cute.”

 

Yuuri froze. _Oh no._ His heart had melted into a viscous puddle on the floor. _No,_ he told himself. _Viktor probably says that to his million other fangirls._

“Phitchit-kun’s been talking about me?” Yuuri said in reply. He silently handed the other his newest, fluffiest and softest towel. He hoped Viktor didn’t mind that it was pink.

 

Viktor nodded, wrapping the towel securely around his waist. “He talks about you a lot, actually.”

 

What in the world is Phitchit telling about him?

 

“Please don’t believe everything Phitchit-kun says.” Yuuri dialled his friend’s number, gesturing his visitor to take a seat on one of the beds. “He has a tendency to exaggerate.”

 

_All circuits are busy now. Please try your call later._

Yuuri narrowed his eyes on his phone screen, suspicion niggling in the back of his mind.

 

“Is there something wrong?”

 

“My call wouldn’t connect. He must be using his phone. I’ll try to text him instead.”

 

“I can wait. After all, I can’t go anywhere.”

 

“You can’t,” Yuuri agreed. “You would start a riot.”

 

Viktor seemed inordinately pleased. "Oh, you think so?"

 

**Phitchit-kun wheres the keys?**

**Viktor’s here asking for it**

**Pls reply asap**

“How come I haven’t seen you in classes?”

 

“Phitchit and I aren’t yearmates. I’m in Level 2. We somehow ended up rooming together.” Yuuri kept shooting his friend text after text. His senpai was taking his sweet time in answering.

 

“He said you were his tour guide on your first day here. He showed me around, too. It was fun.” Yuuri couldn’t tell if his companion was serous or not.

 

Viktor Nikiforov had a weird definition of fun, apparently.

 

**Uve met him? uwu**

**–P**

**Way to state the obvious.**

**Wheres the keys??**

**-Y**

“Phitchit-kun replied, but maybe he hasn’t seen my text.” Yuuri lied. Should he sit down or continue standing? If he sat, should he sit next to Viktor or across from him? What would be the least awkward option? "I'm texting him again."

 

"Okay. I'll-oops, sorry. I'm leaking on your bed." The exchange student probably didn't get a chance to wipe himself off before his towel fell to its watery end because he was still pretty soaked. Droplets of water fell on Yuuri's sheets.

 

"Please don't phrase it like that," the Japanese boy said faintly.

 

Viktor blinked. And realized.

 

"Oh. Hahaha! Sorry, my English is bad."

 

Yuuri knew from countless interviews online that the Russian prodigy was lying. 

 

**Pls tell me where the keys are.**

**Poor guy’s just in my towel.**

**-Y**

**O.O dat sounds dirty**

**U naughty boy u >XD**

**\- P**

**Phitchit-kun you are so dead.**

**KEYS?**

**-Y**

**Fine u party pooper.**

**IDK y u even asked.keys**

**r always wer d keys r. =P**

**-P**

“Good news! I know where your keys are.”  Yuuri should have just searched for it. Instead, he fell into yet another one of Phitchit’s underhanded machinations. His roommate had always kept his keys in the desk drawer. “Here it is! Now you can go.”

 

Viktor gazed at him with his soulful blue eyes, lower lip in a pout. He made ‘lounging in a pink towel and pouting’ into an art form.

 

“You don’t want me here anymore?” Those blue eyes really were devastating.

 

“No! It’s not that! I want you. I-I mean, I want you here. You can visit anytime you like. Or not, if you don’t like. And, and as long as it’s okay with Phitchit-kun – “

 

“Cute,” Viktor repeated, and mercifully cutting off his nonsensical rambling.

 

Their hands briefly touched as the keys were passed to their current owner.

 

“Thank you so much for the help. And the open invitation. I’ll visit soon, neighbor.” With a jaunty wave, Viktor strode out of the room.

 

Yuuri was left with the feeling that he was somehow manipulated by not one, but two people that day.

* * *

 

“It was the most embarrassing moment in my entire life,” Yuuri wailed. Mortification made him more talkative than usual. “You know when they say that they want the ground to swallow them up? I now know exactly how that feels. I wanted the ground to swallow me up whole and spit me out into another universe where I’m not super dorky. Or at least spit me out into the past so I can do it all over again. Would that be too much to ask? I can’t look at Viktor Nikiforov in the eye without blushing horribly. I might put tomatoes to shame. I know, because he really did visit again to return the pink towel. I can’t even look at or think about pink stuff without wanting to bludgeon myself to induce amnesia. What must Viktor think of me? This is all Phitchit-kun’s fault. He’s behind all of this.  Yuuko-chan, please, stop laughing–“

 

* * *

 

Anticipation thrummed in his veins, and excitement was the conductor that directed the beats of his heart _in accelerando._ His mind was relaxed, picking and discarding possibilities of steps, turns and jumps.

 

As fun as it was to spend time with Phitchit and Yuuko, he sometimes preferred to practice on his own. Solitude released him from the constraints of expectation and perfection. He could try a step or two without fear of doing it wrong. He could choose whatever dance to perform, whatever story to tell – with no one to judge him. He could fall or forget his steps – with no one to laugh at him. There were no people to please, teachers to obey or other dancers to be conscious about. There was no need to hold back. He was alone, but he was free.

 

If he ever felt confident enough of what he was practicing on his own, he could even choose to show it to his friends. But tonight was all for himself.

 

He had turned off the lights earlier, having no need for them because his body knew the way. He didn’t need to watch himself in the mirror and see that he wasn’t good enough. Tonight, he can dance just because he enjoyed it.

 

Moonlight conjured up long, dark shadows on the studio floor, revealing a world of black images that was both alien and familiar. Eerie, yet comforting.

 

Yuuri lifted a hand, glancing down to see the shadow making a mimicry of it. How wonderful for light and shadow to coexist, never to be one without the other! The silvery light made his skin glow, and the opaque shadow gave his limb more dimension. Dimensions over dimensions, like how the shadows of his fingers were on his hand and the shadow of his fingers was on the floor.

 

But what if he had no shadow?

 

It gave him an idea what story to tell to himself on this quiet night.

 

* * *

 

_The boat touches the shores of a small, deserted island. The moon is a silent witness as two figures, a male and a female, alight from it._

_Ondine lifts the veil from her head and gazes around her in rapt fascination. Her new heart is beating wildly, like a fish flitting around from coral to coral. Oh, her heart! How strange and wonderful and new and human!_

_She knows that she looks beautiful bedecked in this human garment. It is as fluid as sea froth and had the color of the strange fish swimming in the sea above the sea. Ondine loves – loved, as a naiad – to perch on rocks to look up and watch them swim and change shape._

_The Sea Queen has told her that it was what females wore in that strange human ritual called ‘marriage.’_

_She hopes Matteo thinks she is beautiful in it, too._

_Ondine looks at her lover from underneath her lashes, her breath catching at his handsome visage. How she hopes to rest her head upon his chest and listen to his heart swim! Will it be different from hers?_

_She walks to move nearer to him, but stops._

_Someone is following her._

_She grows scared. Who is it? It is not Matteo –  he is in front of her, looking at her with confused eyes._

_She moves, and it moves too. It has taken her shape, and she realizes that it is not human. What is this magical creature? Does it only live on land?_

_Matteo realizes what she is looking at._

_It is your shadow, he tells her with a fond laugh. He is standing back, so she can see it more clearly._

_My shadow?_

_She sees that Matteo has his ‘shadow,’ too, and her fear disappears. Oh, is this another one of these mortals’ magics? Ondine laughs brightly – spinning, fluttering and jumping around, bejewelled dress sparkling in the moonlit night. Movement is lighter on land than it is in sea._

_Her shadow dances with her, copying her movements like a mischievous and playful friend. She bends forward to try to touch it._

_She tilts her head in consideration. Will Matteo’s shadow dance with hers, too?_

_Ondine runs towards her beloved to find out. He holds out his arms to catch her._

_A sharp pain lances through her chest. She stops._

 

_She gasps, pressing a hand against the pain. Why has her heart started swimming so sluggishly?_

_She smiles at Matteo. She hopes that he does not see the worry in her eyes._

_Ondine slips a hand In her pocket, bringing out the blue rose gifted to her by the Sea Queen along with her mortality and her shadow._

He must marry you, _the Sea Queen has said._ Before the last petal falls.

 

_Another petal falls to the ground._

* * *

 

Yuuri suddenly stopped moving. Ondine’s heart was still beating in his chest. He placed a hand over it to calm it down.

 

He was breathing harshly, but it was not because of exhaustion.  There was no one to see the tears, so he let them fall.

 

Ondine and Matteo’s love was beautiful as it was tragic. Some say their love was wrong, that it was not really love. But it was still beautiful the way all the greatest tragedies were.

He started to move again. He pointed his foot in front of him, and bent forward from his waist. His arms followed the movement gracefully. He straightened up, imagining a flower blossoming softly. He wished he had borrowed Yuuko’s dance skirt to complete the vision.

 

Ondine probably knew that she had little time left before she would meet the same inevitable end as all mortals, but she didn’t rush to marry Matteo to save herself. Deep inside, she had already gotten what she wanted – she had managed to be with her beloved. It had once been an impossible dream because they were from different worlds.

 

Still. If only there had been more petals left…

 

Matteo answered her silent question with a leap and entreating arms.

 

_Don’t leave me, Ondine. Stay._

* * *

 

Yuuri’s eyes snapped open, jolted out of the story he was telling. He almost stumbled with surprise, heart suddenly galloping because of an entirely different reason.

 

He had a creative mind, but he had _not_ imagined that soft thump from Matteo’s jump.

 

He was _not_ imagining that silhouette of another person in the mirror, either. The stranger had not stopped moving, and Yuuri could swear that it was Matteo dancing a few meters away from him.

 

Yuuri stepped a little bit closer, beside himself with  mesmerism. He was still Ondine, and he felt her yearning to dance with her mortal lover.

 

His heart dropped in dread. Shock had frozen him in his spot. Then, realization crept in.

 

_Oh no._

He knew who Matteo was.

 

Matteo came nearer, entreating his Ondine to dance.

 

Ondine - no, Yuuri - took a step back. And another. 

 

“Ondine, come back!”

 

Yuuri turned the other way and fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Little Yuuri's dance class was inspired by an experience I had when I was starting ballet. Although there was no inspirational speech because the teacher laughed along with my classmates when I fell T.T (It's not as traumatizing at it sounds, really). I don't count while dancing, but rely on the music's timing. And yes, I do releves (ankle rises) while brushing my teeth.  
> 2\. A [dance belt](http://www.dancinginthestreet.com/imagecache/84735e99-60db-46c3-a6fc-a7a50118122d_800x800.jpg) is basically a glorified thong for male performers in tights. It serves 2 purposes: to protect the uh 'male package' and to prevent underwear lines. (This scene is a homage to the 'onsen' scene in the anime XD). TMI? You're welcome :P  
> 3\. To give you an idea of Yuuri's laptop wallpaper: here is the incredibly beautiful Roberto Bolle dancing as [the 'Slave' from 'Excelsior.'](https://youtu.be/Kb3VNPsugWk?t=5) (He's one of my fave male ballet dancers and I could fangirl about him for hours, lol.) So...go see a ballet? ;)  
> 4\. Ondine/Undine is quite a rare ballet. This is her [pas de l'ombre (Shadow Dance).](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UIQqiPtlRXo) There are two versions of it, both with tragic endings. I wanted to use the creepier ending (Matteo/Palemon is punished for his infidelity with Ondine's 'kiss of death' then she drags his dead body into the sea so he could be with her forever), but there are no vids of it online. Trivia: the choreographer of this ballet also did Cinderella.  
> 5\. I couldn't find a male dancing Ondine's variation, so enjoy this video of 2 guys dancing [Esmeralda Pas de deux](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g5GWodiGOUo) instead. They're amazing <3 Here's the same talented guy who was Esmeralda doing [fouettes as if they were nothing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u0WyCEixkKY) (and rockin' a pink tutu)
> 
> Thank you, and I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Next chapter theme: Cinderella XD


End file.
